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Friday, March 15, 2013

Sweet Saturday: Gemma's One Regret

Gemma scanned the room for a glimpse of Sir Wilde. Her
brother had only just allowed her to return to London this week. For whatever
reason, he had convinced her parents of the necessity of the prolonged absence.
They fully agreed that she should retire to the country estate for a time, to
recuperate from her episode with the man they deemed below her station.

She wished she had never told her lady’s maid of what had
transpired between her and Sir Wilde. The disloyal girl had turned right around
and passed the information directly to Gemma’s brother, Hawke. Enraged, he had
stormed from the house to find the offending gentleman to teach him some
manners.

To Gemma’s recollection, Wilde’s manner was altogether
perfect. She closed her eyes and remembered, replaying the stolen moments they
had shared. A wistful sigh escaped her lips before she could stop it.

“I am remembering, my lord.” She cast a sidelong glance at
her brother and wriggled her arm against his grip. “If you don’t mind, I am
quite certain I no longer require your assistance, and you are hurting me.”

His cold stare warned her against giving any sign of
impropriety.

Hawke knew what buttons to push with Gemma. Her sense of
propriety was ingrained in every fiber of her being. In fact, it was that
cursed sense that had mortified her so desperately when she and Wilde had first
been caught in the embrace. She’d reacted with utter shame and disgrace at the
time. But her long visit to Brookshire had given her ample time to consider the
matter.

Looking back on it, Gemma was certain the only thing she
would have done differently was insisting Wilde lock the door. That would have
solved everything.